It had been one thing to attend a small house party at Everdene Hall with people Grace had known as a child—quite another thing entirely to be swept back into the social whirl of London again after three long years. On this crisp September night, tension thickened the air even more than usual. Since Lord Pinchbeck was among the guests at Lady Downe’s soiree, Grace dreaded the possibility that Neville might be attending as well. Another meeting with her former betrothed was inevitable, but she loathed the prospect that anything might upset the balance she and Lucien had achieved.
She forced a smile when the French ambassador absconded with her husband to discuss the furor of unrest in Paris, but chose not to await the next salvo of impertinent questions alone. Slipping into an alcove, she lingered there until Arkwright appeared with a grin.
The man had an uncanny knack for noticing when Lucien was called away and stepping in to fill the void. “Are you all right,” he asked with an arched brow. “Or is there someone I need to trounce?”
“I am fine.”
“But glad I am here?” Arkwright said with an infectious grin.
“Very.” She’d been unable to suppress the butterflies in her stomach from the moment of their arrival. “I fear I’ll scream if I’m forced to fend off one more question from yet another prying, smiling hostess.”
“Who no doubt scarce conceals bared teeth?”
“Indeed.” She leaned toward him, conspiratorially.“You have been absent from society for so long…You must tell us how you brought Lord Everdene up to scratch.”
Even the dailies featured caricatures lampooning the marriage, while anyone who had been attempting to enchant his lordship themselves, or secure him for their marriageable daughters, was eager to find fault with his chosen bride.
She looked at Arkwright. “I promised Lucien when we agreed to wed that I would be an asset to him politically. But I feel like the dark horse that triumphed at Newmarket. Everyone suspects I must have cheated to win.”
“Let them gawk and gossip,” Arkwright said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You are an asset to Everdene in every way.” He grinned, his gaze fixing on Lucien who was now surrounded by a cluster of colleagues near the punchbowl. “I daresay, the real joke is on him. I confess, it is amusing to see him so confused. Only once before in all the years I’ve known Everdene have I seen him this bewildered. He has always been so sure of himself while the rest of us mere mortals were bumbling about. But with you, there are times the old fellow looks as if he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice.”
She felt the sting. “I hardly take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it most definitely is. With you, he has finally met his match.” He gave a soft laugh, his gaze still on Lucien. “In fact, I think he could fall in love with you, if he’ll allow himself.”
Grace’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you truly think so? Sometimes I think he might have tender feelings toward me, butthen, it is as if he slams a door shut inside him, and barricades it more securely than ever.”
“Excellent. You are making progress, then.”
“That hardly seems like progress.”
“It is. I have some experience, truth be told.” Arkwright turned a solemn gaze her direction. “Everdene behaved quite the same way with me as we became friends.”
She pressed a gloved hand to the bodice of her glacé silk gown, almost daring to hope. Was it possible Lucien cared for her as well? “How did you finally break through?” she asked.
“It was a rather messy business, I am afraid.” A spark of humor lit Arkwright’s eyes as he thumbed his lapels. “I am a very likeable fellow, if I say so myself, but Lucien would barely talk to me. At Eton our beds were next to each other, in the far corner of the dormitory. Late at night when the other boys were asleep, I saw him with this blue tin box. He’d take something out of it and run it through his fingers. I couldn’t see what he held, but I thought it must be something wicked or at least interesting. One night, while he was sleeping, I dug the box from under his bed. He woke while I was holding it. I’ll never forget his expression. He grabbed for the box and planted me a facer.”
Arkwright rubbed his eye with a rueful grin. “The tin fell and made a deafening noise and boys around us woke. It was quite the melee, but when the prefect came, I edged the box under Lucien’s bed with my foot. Neither of us would tell what we had argued over, even when they thrashed us.”
Honor among boys…How many times had Grace see it in her brothers?
“Later, after everyone else was back asleep, I saw him by moonlight, holding the box. It is the only time I have ever seen Lucien cry.”
Grace’s heart ached as she pictured the boy Lucien had been. “What was in it?”
Arkwright shrugged. “Dashed if I know. It was too dark to see. And afterwards, well—I never found out what it was. I made reparations as best I was able. I had discovered a nook behind a loose board between our beds where I would hide the bits and bobs boys collect. I removed my things and gave the space to him, promising I would never pry again. To solemnize the vow, I nicked my palm with my penknife and swore a blood oath that if I ever told I soul I would drop down dead.” His mouth crooked in a rueful smile. “So, if I choke on a fish bone this evening, you will know what happened.”
She gave a watery laugh, so deeply moved by Arkwright’s words that she squeezed his arm. “I am so glad that Lucien has you for a friend.”
“He is the truest I’ve ever known. Don’t give up on him, Grace. He cares about you more than he knows.”
Shehadnoticed a change in the weeks since she’d begun reading to him. He rarely missed their time together. He would sit across from her in his big chair as she read, his long legs stretched out before him, a glass of brandy in his hand. As he listened, she’d detected sparks of interest, a crease between his brows, the hint of a smile or frown.
Grace smiled up at Arkwright, tingling with hope that this ‘business arrangement’ of a marriage might turn into something more.
Arkwright offered her his arm. “Perhaps we should go rescue Everdene from that cadre of our ‘honored opposition.’”
But Grace and her escort had scarce stepped from their alcove when Lord Pinchbeck blocked their way, the golden-haired girl at his side staring up at Grace with cornflower blue eyes.
